Blade of the Blood
by Eil
Summary: Pride and Prejudice placed in a fantasy world. Magic, wars, villains and be that a knight in shining armor? Lord d'Arlain, a master of the Blood, arrives at Lindfield against his will, and discovers some things that might change his life forever.
1. Chapter 1: Persuasion

To start off; English is not my mother tongue, and I don't even have it as a subject anymore (not by choice). Furthermore, I've had writer's block for over a year after my teacher – who happens to be an acclaimed author – told me my stories are too complicated and unoriginal. This is also my first work of fanfiction. I'm also a pessimist. Not to mention I haven't read Pride and Prejudice since September last year.

Oh well... here goes nothing.

I'm picturing that this story is taking place in a medieval period/fantasy world since I don't know enough about USA/England to make a modern version. Any holes in my knowledge can thus be covered by "magic", "spells" and other vague stuff.

**Chapter one: Persuasion**

Wiser people than me have said that if a man is blessed with a good name and fortune, it is only a matter of time before his sisters convince him that nothing could make the happiness more complete than them having a sister-in-law. And be there no suitable ladies in the immediate area, they will soon talk him into thinking a change of air would do a world of good.

D'Arlain had hoped to get some peace when he came back to his castle in Greymoor. Even a week at court, attending formal dinners where one fork looked much like the other but which difference was enough for a scandal, exhausted his patience.

It would not have been so bad if he'd been allowed to keep to himself, to take walks with Genivere and ignore people whose only interest was to find out exactly how big a fortune he had. But no, one was expected to be shallow and merry, and to make matters even worse there had been those bloody alchemists who thought an invitation to court meant a recognition of their geniality!

He frowned. They seriously thought that stars were made of rocks and that commoners could wield the gift of magic. They'd even tried to convince him that science could turn lead into gold and ruined his best cloak in an attempt to prove it. Fools. They meddled in things they could not understand. One could not reason oneself to be of the Blood when the only way to get there was to be born to it.

As soon as courtesy allowed it he'd excused himself, blaming his quick departure on matters vague enough to satisfy everyone's imagination. He did not care whether they thought he was going off to fight barbarians or home to a mistress. It would be good with a little breathing space at last.

His hopes fell as he rode through the gates and was met by the Duke of Cairleth and his sister, Lady Melricha, both prepared to get into a carriage. Not that the sight of his friends was not welcome – well, he thought glumly, Rowan's at least – but all he wanted at that moment was a glass of wine and someplace _quiet_.

"The Ladies' forbid, lord D'Arlain!" cried Rowan's sister in a shrill and excited voice that made him wince. "How lucky you should catch us before we left! Now, do not tell me you have forgotten _all_ about the trip!"

Must she always speak in exclamation marks? He halted the horse and gave a light and gracious bow from the saddle. "I cannot recall any... trip, my lady."

"Oh, lord d'Arlain, do not tease me!" she giggled.

"Ben!" said Rowan warmly; he and d'Arlain was on first names after years of studying together. "How good it is to see you. How was our friends at court?"

"Enjoying themselves silly, as always," replied d'Arlain and dismounted.

"Was His Majesty and children well? I do hope – "

"Oh, Rowan, get to the point!" Melricha smacked her brother on the arm with her fan. "Look at the sun! There is only so much daylight left to travel on."

"Pray, do not let me detain you."

She widened her eyes in a manner he found most unflattering; such small, squinting eyes, with painted lashes and a dull color between gray and brown. She was comely enough, he supposed, but compared to the women he admired she was a candle compared to sunsets. "- with us!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What my sister _meant_ to say," said Rowan, as unaware as his sister that d'Arlain's thoughts had been occupied elsewhere, "that we'd love to have you with us to Lindfield. I am sure I told you a couple of weeks ago that we wanted to inspect our lands there, and perhaps get some fresh air away from the city." He smiled, and his face was as open and friendly as his sister's was calculating.

"Do you intend to stay there for long?" d'Arlain asked distantly. Perhaps a swim in the lake first, he thought. Then he would ask the servants to fetch him some clean clothes, and one of the finest bottles of the house and leave him.

"Oh, until the end of the month at least. I hear they have very interesting customs in connection with the May Festival and I would dearly like to see them."

" – _quite_ the lower class, but we might make interesting acquaint – !"

Finally the words made sense in d'Arlain's mind. "Lindfield?" The horse moved nervously and he changed his tone. "Lindfield. Why on earth do you want to go there, Rowan? It is just a village with nothing but farmers and fishers and ducks that goes a-quacking in the streets. There is no need to inspect the place – I know a man that would be willing to buy it off your hands for a reasonable sum."

"You have seen the place, then?"

"Seen it?" scoffed d'Arlain. "I went riding through there two years ago and my horse was wading in mud. I even saw the house you inherited – if it can be called a house. It has been neglected by the servants, the roof is leaking, the doors are creaking and it does not even have a portrait gallery."

"Ben, I cannot believe it is that bad. Why do you not come with us and show us the way? The place is not even so uncivilized as you make it to be; why, there are two or three noble families that has moved to the countryside – "

"The rent is too high in the crown city."

" – _and_ I see no reason to think they are not fine people – "

"I have no wish – "

Lady Melricha Cairleth was not a woman to be snubbed. "Lord d'Arlain!" she said in her most demanding tone. "We have traveled all the way from Cairleth Castle, endured your roads which made the ride _extremely_ uncomfortable, waited for you without knowing when you would arrive, and then you have the nerve to disappoint us this way! My Lord, this is not the behavior I expect from you!" He struggled to keep his face unreadable as she waved her fan, trying to be coquettish. "Of course," she added as an afterthought. "You must be tired after your own trip. How unforgivable of me. We will of course stay and entertain you if you are too weak to come with us – I do not have the heart to leave you! Is that not so, Rowan? We must think about lord d'Arlains _health_! To travel miles to celebrate the May Festival when we might as well do it here! Greymoor Park is an excellent option; and I have always thought it is a shame that such a huge property should never invite to any huge parties! Why, now that I – "

She drew her breath and Rowan quickly broke in, "His health is unquestionably robust, dear sister – almost insolently so compared to most of the nobilities. I am sure he would not mind to keep us company while we visit Lindfield."

It was amazing, d'Arlain thought, how persuading Melricha could be when it was not her intention. It was a natural talent of hers. He sighed. "You know I cannot refuse."

* * *

The fine black carriage accompanied by a, as far as the people of Lindfield could see, very able rider was bound to cause talk. Their arrival at Elwood Mansion had startled the maids, who'd never thought the weekly washing of the windows would ever receive any praise. As soon as they had curtsied and said "Yes, m'lord" and "To be sure, m'lady" and "We are honored, Your Grace," they ran into town and started using their tongues for gossiping. Oh, the duke was very handsome, and had been so kind when he asked them about the house; they seemed to be prepared for a longer stay – the lady was comely and her gowns must surely be the most beautiful in the kingdom, they had to be very careful when handling them so that they did not rip off any pearls. Of the duke's friend, they did not know much; he'd withdrawn into his room and asked for nothing but a mug of water, soap, and redberry wine.

* * *

"Julienne! How much did this goose cost?" Madam Bregan was sitting in the small kitchen and counting gold and silver coins, frowning as if to dare them to run away.

"Three silver marks, mother." said answered her daughter without looking up from the gown she was sewing on.

"You should have haggled it down further," scorned madam Bregan. "That Darin man can very well afford it. You know his Ruana married the Earl of Helleton? I would not even call her pretty."

Aletha, busy picking feathers of the overpriced goose, shook her head at her mother's displeasure, and smiled. "Julienne would feel bad if she had to push the price lower than it already is."

"Low! If I had not been so weak, I would have walked to Rholith and gotten it no more than one silver mark."

The sisters exchanged a look; Fed Darin had always been kinder to them than most his customers, with them being "such fine ladies, indeed, finer than my little Ruana ever was – be sure to bring my greetings to your honored father – ".

Yes, their father was honorable enough – but what was a good name when the fortune did not match it? After the fifth daughter had been born he'd moved his family to the countryside where life was easier and less expensive. Julienne and Aletha, being sixteen and fifteen then, had soon adjusted to their new home. Lillian had not so readily accepted the change – at least not before she had mulled it over and concluded that "getting closer to nature" was a good thing. The two youngest, however, constantly longed for the carefree life they had led and complained about everything that was different from their former home: the size of the rooms; the ducks, the forest (they should chop down all the trees and make a garden); the villagers; the long walk to church and so on and so forth. Ada could blame a rock for being hard and she always got Erien to agree with her.

"Mother! We _must _invite the duke to the May Dance!" Julienne sighed as Ada appeared in the dorway and carelessly stepped on the gown as she walked past her.

"That is hardly appropriate," protested Aletha, glancing up. "It's a custom of the village, not our own private ball. If they want to come then they will do so – it will only seem forward and pompous if we invite higher ranked people to a – an event like this."

"Oh, don't be so dull," huffed Ada, her bright blue eyes gleaming. She was probably picturing herself handing the invitation herself to the duke. "How will they know about it if we do not tell them?"

"A very logical point, my dear – "

"And we ought to show that we are friendly and civilized."

"Quite my opinion too – "

"And we are the most suitable people around to represent Lindfield."

"Just so – "

"And he has four castles and has been knighted and is said to be one of the wealthiest in the kingdom!" triumphed Ada.

Her mother's eyes were wide with excitement. "Oh, _my_."

"Mother!" exclaimed Julienne and Aletha, both's attention diverted from their tasks. The very idea that they should indulge Ada in this was shocking. "You cannot – "

"Do not tell me what I can and cannot." said madam Bregan firmly. "It is clear that some courtesy is due here, and it shall be my pleasure to ask your father to write an invitation. Do not look at me that way, Aletha, do be finished with that goose and follow Julienne's example. I trust you have some nice clothes you can fix for the dance too."

* * *

However ashamed she was of Ada's and her mother's behavior, Aletha was determined to attend the dance. After all, she thought dryly, I need to make my connection with them known and no one expects us to converse with the duke and his party. She had spent the day walking around in Lindfield with Julienne, watching people bustling about, decorating their houses, cleaning the street, laughing and talking excitedly as they did so. Everyone seemed to be preparing for the evening dance.

"I look forward to the food," Julienne said, after they'd paid old madam Mari a visit. "Did you see the pies her daughter was baking?"

"No, but I smelled them," Aletha said and grinned. "But Julienne, don't you have any young man you prioritize before the food?"

Her older sister blushed. "I cannot say that I do," she said defensively. Aletha laughed at her expression. "Come on, don't be shy."

But Julienne insisted that there were no young men around that suited her and that she much preferred a blueberry pie to an unsuitable one. Aletha on the other hand – had not Marq, the foresters' son given her a cryptic look when they had passed him on the street? They went on teasing eachother until they'd walked so far that they could see Elwood Mansion, gleaming brightly in the sun.

"Oh, they've painted it!" cried Julienne. "Do you think they will stay here for good?"

"I hope not." replied Aletha. She had her own reasons for hoping so; she loved being in the forest in Lindfield, to escape her mother and her two youngest sisters, but it was the property of whoever owned the mansion. She couldn't believe the duke would approve of a middle-class woman running around on his land, swimming in his river and picking his flowers and herbs. "If they are, mother will start planning yours and the duke's wedding – just you remember that."

The road turned a little farther ahead, bringing them closer to the mansion. Aletha saw something gleaming in the corner of her eye just as it was disappearing behind some trees and she looked back trying to see what it was. A man was standing in the backyard, moving from position to position so gracefully it seemed as if he was dancing. The gleam had come from the sword in his hands; sunlight spilled down the blade as he raised it and whirled it around with ease. She wasn't near enough to make out his face, but she doubted she'd seen him before. There were few in Lindfield who were so tall, and none with hair as black as his. Not to mention his skills at handling a weapon. She was unable to tear her gaze away. Suddenly he stopped, relaxed and looked up – and, it seemed, right at her.

She gave a start, then hurried after Julienne.

"Why did you stop?"

"Oh, I thought I – saw something."

Her sister sighed. "You're too curious."

* * *

The dance was taking place on a big field just outside the village, where a huge bonfire had been lit and food had been put on the tables around. Despite Aletha's gloom predictions on the way to it, he was friendly and not the least bit condescending of the people present. He tactfully refrained from mentioning the invitation at all, but paid so much attention to the members of the Bregan family that it left madam Bregan in no doubt that he was grateful for it. He is a fine man, Aletha thought as she watched him talk eagerly with madam Mari, who seemed stunned that a person of such importance should find her interesting. They'd finished eating and some of the men found their instruments and began playing a merry tune. Turm the stableboy raised his pleasant voice and put words to the song.

_Ho, bonnie blue bird_ _have ye no' seen_

_the lassies a-dancing_ _their gowns ever green_

_I thought ye be pretty_ _but ye told me no_

_The lassies be bonnier, ho!_

Boys came shuffling ahead and mumbled some shy words, and soon most of the girls had been led giggling out to dance. Aletha had withdrawn out of the light from the fire, and stood under some trees watching. Ada and Erien were flirting with every young male in two shoes and her mother was looking at them with something, to Aletha's dismay, very much like approval. Luckily those were decent young men who'd never dream of taking advantage of a girl.

More surprising was that the duke had engaged Julienne. Aletha had not thought he'd go so far as to mingle with the villagers – but obviously that sort of thing wasn't on his mind. His hair, red as a barn stuck on fire, was ruffled by the wind and he smiled as he twirled his partner around with more elegance than any of the others. She even thought he looked reluctant when the song ended and he had to let her go; but then again, why should he not like Julienne? A wreath of blue flowers was crowning her golden hair, and matched the color of her eyes and her beautiful gown. She'd been made Queen of May, but her Green Man was suffering from too much ale and wasn't able to dance without his feet crossing. Currently he was enjoying the attention of Lillian, who was having a jolly good time lecturing about the sins of strong drink.

Everyone in her family seemed to be enjoying himself or herself. Even her father. He'd grumbled about the "stupidity of a May Dance, when spring came surely enough every year whether one jumped about with twigs on one's head or not", but had changed his opinion by the sight of the food.

Aletha let her eyes wander and they again came to rest upon the duke, who had returned back to his party. It seemed as if he was trying to make his sister and lord d'Arlain – she had heard people whisper his name and say, though not a _duke_ he was related to the queen and had her favor – dance the next dance together. She had recognized him right away as the swordman she'd spotted earlier that day. He hadn't given her more than a glance though, so she assumed he'd either forgotten her or that he simply didn't care.

The lord shook his head, and made a dismissive gesture. The lady frowned at her brother, as if she had nothing but contempt for the idea. Not that she seemed to mind lord d'Arlain. She laid her hand on his arm, but he was already retreating; gave her a bow and strode away as if he'd seen something of interest elsewhere.

You have to try harder to get that one, lady, Aletha thought and shook her head. Lord d'Arlain and lady Melricha, who seemed as though they could not wait to get away from the place, far from impressed her.

The duke followed him, and they stopped just within her earshot. " – of you. How extraordinary kind of them to do this and allow us to take part in it! Melricha can to some extent be excused; there are no one here who can bid up a lady of her class but you. You, on the other hand – I see not why you cannot engage one of the beauties that are present tonight. They may not be noble, true, but I have seldom seen such grace and manners for all that they are unpolished by education."

They were close enough for her to marvel at Julienne's luck; the duke was good-looking and his ready smile made his appearance more than pleasant. His tunic was a dark, rich green with golden thread running around the edges. Lord d'Arlain's dark, curlyhair was well groomed and his clothing irreproachable. Both his tunic and his breeches were plain black, but the way it fitted him made her think it must be a lot more expensive than she first would have thought. He turned his head slightly, giving her a noble profile that instantly struck her as unusually handsome.

Aletha turned away, but kept listening under the pretense of making a wreath of the flowers by her feet.

"Your lady for the evening is the only one who possesses a beauty worth noticing." said lord d'Arlain coolly. "Apart from your sister, of course. The others are, in my eyes, plain and unenlightened. I shall be glad when this is over."

There was a pause, where Aletha imagined the duke sighed at his friend's response.

"You are harsh as always. Come; do not let your mind be so dark tonight of all nights. Be there no greater heart in thee? Live a little, comfort a little, cheer thyself a little."

The other made a frustrated sound. "In this we are different, you and I. My mind is not dark, but neither is it carefree as yours. Go to the girl, Rowan – do not let my mood spoil yours. The weeks at court has made me appreciate some time alone, that is all – do not fret."

"More picky too, it seems." The duke clung stubbornly to the subject as only innocents can do. "Why, I am astonished than you can dismiss the females here without taking a proper look at them. Over there the sister of Julienne Bregan – will you not dance with her?"

Aletha froze, then went on with her task as if she'd heard nothing. She scorned herself for listening to others conversations.

"If that is your idea of a beauty..." There was a pause, where he spoke too low for her to hear. "She might be pretty, but all ladies are pretty by firelight. It is not enough to tempt me. No, I'd rather dance with your sister then, if you insist."

The duke almost groaned. "I do not insist! And Melricha has called the carriage; she said she was tired. No, I only say if you were less – " The rest of the words were lost as d'Arlain resumed his walk and was followed by the duke.

Red from indignation, she dropped the flowers. She could not believe what she had just heard – the patronizing tone, and even more, the words he had used – had lowered her opinion of him considerably. Who in the name of the Ladies did he think he was?

"Hey," She blinked, and turned around to face Marq. He hadn't bothered dressing himself up; as always he wore a brown shirt with rough texture and black breeches and stuffed into soft leather boots. "How come you're not dancing?" He tilted his head slightly to one side. "Something the matter?"

She grimaced. "You know I don't like to dance. I came for the food and to make sure Ada does not embarrass the family, and that Erien does not try to surpass her sister in doing so, and that Lillian does not bore anyone to death because she's incapable of taking a hint. I'm going home soon; it's getting late." If she stayed any longer, she might go up to d'Arlain and scold him up one side and down the other about what she thought of him.

"No, you can't," Marq said, and gave a wry smile.

"What?"

"You have to endure dessert and at least one dance afterwards before doing so – else my father would think you're being rude. We spent days chopping trees for that fire and making those tables."

"Afterwards!" she groaned. "How can people fill up their stomach to the point of retching and then volunteer to go and jump up and down?"

He seemed to struggle to keep a straight face. "When there's a dance, people usually don't eat so much."

"But what's the point in all this food, then?"

"In case someone... eats."

She rolled her eyes at him and he finally gave way to laughter. Marq had been her good friend ever since they moved to Lindfield; she enjoyed his company and, being the forester's son, he'd taught her a lot of things about the forest.

"Come," he said when he'd finished laughing. He grabbed her hand and dragged her with him, making his way though the crowd of people. She didn't realize where he was headed before she saw a black head of hair slightly above the others and tried to pull back. But Marq had the build of a boulder and probably didnt even notice and before she could open her mouth in protest they stood before the duke.

His eyes – the color of a summer sky – lit up when he saw them. "Ah, master Aldon. How is it going with your father?"

Marq bowed. "He is quite well, Your Grace. He will have the logs you requested by tomorrow."

"So soon?" exclaimed the duke, smiling. "I thought white oaks grew far up in the mountains. I heard they burn with such a pleasant odor," he said, addressing lord d'Arlain who looked at Marq with skepticism. "Well, give your father my thanks and tell him how grateful I am. Unless he is here tonight? I would very much like to say it to him myself if possible."

"He chose to stay home, Your Grace – he is old and not too fond of dancing."

"And what about yourself? You have a lovely young lady by your arm – why do you not dance?"

Aletha curtsied when he looked at her and looked him boldly in the eye, encouraged by his smile. Marq gave a wistful grin. "I had an accident with an ax when I was little, Your Grace. My right leg is stiff and prevents me from such joys. Miss Bregan, however, has no excuse for not taking a turn – will you not help me convince her, Your Grace?"

"Marq - !"

"No, no." The duke, thrilled by the opportunity, grabbed the arm of his friend, "Miss Bregan, let me present lord d'Arlain – who also shrinks from anything that involves steps and rhythm, unless it is swordplay. But surely he cannot refuse you."

Oh really? Aletha wondered whether the duke really believed his own words after hearing the ones d'Arlain had uttered about her.

Up close, he was even more good-looking. His features were clean and masculine, but they were shamed by the forbidding look in his eyes and the ironic twist of his mouth. He shot a glare at the duke, and even one at Marq, and his reluctance was so obvious it brought her rage back to the surface. Finally, when courtesy gave no room for more delay, he turned to her and bowed. "Will you make me the honor, miss - ?"

The nerve of the man! Could he not even remember her name ten seconds after it was mentioned? She gave a small curtsy and raised her chin. "What honor would it be, for a noble to dance with a commoner? No, my lord, the only one who can do you justice is the lady Melricha and I see she is not here."

They stared at eachother for a moment, unaware of the astonished silence from their friends. Then she whirled around and, feeling her face go red again, mumbled something under her breath and walked away as fast as she could without stumbling in her skirts.

Marq, confused by her behavior, tried to apologize but the duke told him not to worry about it. Women could not be made head or tail of, but one had to admire them all the same. There was no need to excuse anyone – apart from lord d'Arlain, perhaps; to let a whole evening go by without engaging one of the girls! At the end of the sentence he threw a exasperated look at d'Arlain, who seemed to be deep in thoughts.

There he goes again, thought Rowan. Well! I shall go and find miss Julienne, and if he wants to spend May Dance sulking, then it shall be his problem. He went gladly in search of the lovely May Queen and did not spare lord d'Arlain another thought – and even if he did so, he would never have imagined that his friend was thinking about a pair of deep honey brown eyes, staring at him in defiance.


	2. Chapter 2: Invitation

**Chapter two: Invitation**

The door to Elwood mansion creaked every so slightly. So did the floor as someone stepped inside – someone who winced every time he advanced a step and hissed when he bumped into a chair in the dark. He hesitated before the staircase then dragged himself up while supporting his weight on the banister.

There were four bedrooms upstairs – the servant's quarter was in the other end of the house. The first belonged to Melricha; the snoring was audible even through the closed door. The second one was empty and reserved for guests. The third one was d'Arlains – he never snored and he never closed his door. The fourth –

"Are you back this early?"

The figure in the hall was only two steps away from his own room when the voice made him jump, and he said sheepishly; "Ben! I did not know you were awake. You need not be sarcastic, I know it is quite late – "

"I _meant_, this early in the morning."

Rowan gave a low, embarrassed laugh and went back to stand in the door, squinting into the dark. "What are you doing here, sitting like this?" he asked. "At least light a fire – it is almost colder here than it is outside! May I -?"

"I do not need light to sleep or think," replied d'Arlain. "But if it can please you, be my guest."

Rowan made a gesture towards where he thought the fireplace must be, and a flame flickered up and grew until the whole room was brightly lit. There were tasteful paintings on the walls, a big bed, a small table and two soft armchairs that had gone a bit worn over the years. It seemed naked with so little furniture. D'Arlain had ordered all the cushions and carpets out, along with the vases, the candelabras, the chairs, even the portraits. Rowan had not minded, but he could not understand how anyone could bear be in a room so cold, big and empty – so _impersonal_.

"Do come in."

Rowan was motioned to sit in the other armchair. "I will have the servants bring you matches – "

"There is no need."

"But how will you – "

The other frowned and gave him a look that clearly told him there wasn't room for any discussion, so the subject wasn't pursued. They sat for a while and listened to the cracking of the fire. D'Arlain had never been the type for small talk. Rowan shifted in his chair.

"I had fun at the dance."

A non-committal nod from his friend.

"I have never met such friendly people. They find so much pleasure in things that we take for granted, and I dare say I have never experienced anything like last night. So much... joy. It is nothing like the court at all, although you would be able to tell better than me." He smiled to himself, pausing for a moment as he mused over his own words. "Did you speak to Julienne Bregan? She possesses a nature as sweet as her appearance – I could not stop talking to her. Is that not odd? It seemed we had so much in common. We must have spend hours discussing paintings and poems." A frown appeared on his brow. "I hope she did not find me dull."

D'Arlain gave no sign that he'd heard. His face was distant.

"You remain silent – do you not agree?"

"Oh, yes. They are quite friendly."

Rowan smirked. "I know what you are thinking. You are thinking about a certain person and excluding her from the list; but I must say, Ben, you brought it upon yourself."

"No, that is not what I was thinking." said his friend, for the first time with a slight hint of feeling in his voice. "And if I had been thinking about – her – I would not think her a worse person for what she said. Why should I? After all, we were clearly in the same mind about dancing in general. And she is hardly a girl I would have noticed had I not been in such a mind. But that was not what I was thinking." he finished. "What?"

Rowan had raised his brow. "I am thinking the lady doth protests too much."

His grin eventually made a small smile appear on his friend's lips, and he was allowed a few more jokes before the subject changed. D'Arlain had in fact not stayed awake to talk about girls and dancing, although he had been waiting for Rowan.

On his way back to the mansion he had noticed some small bonfires in the distance and turned his horse in that direction. He'd gone no further after the sounds of gypsy music reached his ears; instead he had hastened back to Elwood and forbidden Melricha to go near that area alone. In fact he would have preferred that she did not go out alone at all, but it was beyond him to give her such a restriction.

"But why, Ben, they're harmless – "

"Harmless _enough_, and that is as far as I would go. But it is what follows in their wake that worries me. I do not wish to see either of you going there the time we stay in Lindfield." D'Arlain rested his chin against the palm of his hand, his eyes thoughtful. "They come from west – from the border. Does that not say enough? Wherever gypsies travel, trouble follows behind. They may not be the cause of it, but that does not make it less true."

Rowan sat and thought about this for a while. For all that he was a duke, the schemes, the games of power and the worries of the court had never affected him. His lands had never been cause for conflicts. His nature had never inspired jealousy or fear in others. It was different with d'Arlain.

"If it is the case," he said finally, "that the war has crossed the border– "

"I would not tell your sister that. It may cause her to worry – though I doubt it – and I do not wish to upset her without good reason."

"But if – "

D'Arlain shook his head suddenly. "There are too many ifs. An "if" is not a good reason. Let us not talk more of it now; we both need some sleep. I did not expect you to come home so late. But then again, I had not expected the gypsies either. Perhaps I spent too much time at the court." He blinked and looked at Rowan again. "Before I forget – I was supposed to give you a message from your sister. She wishes to invite miss Bregan to the house. I cannot understand why. This mansion lacks the most basics of comforts and is completely unsuitable for any – "

"What a splendid idea!" exclaimed Rowan, a smile spreading on his face. He'd thought about the same thing himself, but had wondered whether it would have been too forward. Without any encouragement he might have stayed at Elwood for a week or two, then taken a ride down to the village and on his way back perhaps inquire where the Bregans lived. And then he would pay them a quick visit – after all, one could say he was on friendly terms with the family – and after another week, he would repeat it, only now he _might _stay a little longer and hope for a chance to converse with Julienne.

But now, he had a perfect excuse to meet her again. Rowan dismissed the other's expressed concern about the roof's condition. "Do not worry about such things, Ben. We will have a picnic in the garden!"

"In _May_?" asked d'Arlain in disbelief. "I hope you keep in mind that we are not in the south anymore, but in Lindfield – the weather can change several times from sunup to sundown . It might very well be a thunderstorm tomorrow."

"You are unbelievable! You cannot be serious!"

"Oh, I assure you, I am – "

Rowan only laughed at him.

* * *

"It's going to rain." 

Aletha sat by the window in Julienne's room. Her sister was brushing her hair while humming softly to herself, not giving any sign that she had heard. Not surprising. A lot could go on under Julienne's nose these days without her seeing it. Aletha constantly caught her staring dreamily at nothing and could only guess what was going on behind those pretty blue eyes.

Whatever had passed between her and the duke, Rowan of Cairleth had certainly made an impact.

"Julienne?"

Humming. "_Mmhm-mm-mm- _hmm?"

"You look very forward to this, don't you?"

"Oh, yes. Very."

She hadn't thought anything else. Not that Julienne had talked much about the invitation from Melricha – she left that up to their mother, who kept talking about "the lovely design of the letter – it would do very well on wedding cards, my dear", and Ada, who every time she opened her mouth complained about the unfairness of it all – "why should only she go? I'm _sure_ it was meant for the family!"

That was... most unlikely. Aletha could not forget the look in the lady's eyes when they'd fallen upon her youngest sister.

"Are you sure you don't want Marq to follow you?"

Her sister turned around, a quizzical look on her face. "You keep asking me – is something worrying you?"

It was difficult to find an answer to that question, and it shouldn't be. Aletha looked out the windows at the gray clouds again, wondering if perhaps they affected her mood. And perhaps she should spend some time away from the family herself, since it seemed Ada's silliness was contagious. She should be happy for Julienne – not that she wasn't! – but there was that little tingling in the back of her head. Like, when you had your back on someone and could sense they were drawing a knife on you without looking.

It wasn't the first time she'd felt like this. She knew better than to disregard the feeling, but what could she do about it when she didn't have a clue about what needed to be done?

"Maybe I just don't like the thought of you going alone to meet some strangers," she said half-jokingly. "Don't laugh! It's almost half an hours away, what if you should need something?"

"Would you prefer I left the horse so you could come to my rescue?" Julienne smiled. "Aletha, I'm sure I will be taken good care of – not that it's necessary; after all I'm quite... grown up. And Elwood isn't that far. It may be half an hours ride on _our_ horse, but it doesn't take much longer time to walk."

"True." Aletha gave a wry grin and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She _was_ worried, though. Some _was_ pulling a metaphorical knife. "You do know the way, right?"

At this, Julienne turned back to her mirror and muttered something under her breath about pesky little sisters.

* * *

Because of all the rain the past couple of days, the roads had been reduced to muddy tracks; of which the lowest portions were flooded with equally muddy water. On any other day, Julienne wouldn't have let this inconvenience her, but merely driven the horse through and hope for the best; on any other day, she wouldn't have been overly concerned about her clothes. Today, however, she wore a gown of fine white wool that would undoubtedly show off every spot of dirt she got on it. 

Aletha would have thought of this, she was always so practical. Julienne frowned. Hadn't her sister mentioned it? Something about the weather.

She halted her horse and stared hopelessly at the place where the road rose from the water about a hundred yards away. Then her gaze swept around – there had to be some other way. The problem was finding one that would get her to Elwood before the sun began to sink. Half an hour? More like half a day!

_And longer it will take, the longer you linger,_ Julienne mused, and took off from the road, into the trees. _Or perhaps Rowan would come this way when I don't turn up in time?_ She didn't mean to continue that thought, but her mind produced an image of its own accord.

_... and then he'd laugh, and ask, why bother? I shall carry you, it will take less time. Or better yet, let us remain on your side and let d'Arlain and my sister has the food for themselves! It was your company I wanted – nothing else. _One evening, and she felt like – not as if she'd known him all her life, but as though she'd waited for someone like him all her life. _Silly girl. You've never talked to a man for any longer than ten sentences, that's all. _She wished she was more like Aletha, who never had to think twice about what to say and still have it turn out right.

"A penny, m'lady. A penny."

She was shocked out of her daydreams and the horse neighed in protest when she pulled the reins abruptly.

A scrawny young boy, his face so dirty that you couldn't quite see the color of his skin, stood right in front of her with a dull look in his eyes. His clothes were ragged and full of filth, and his dark hair shone with grease.

"A penny."

He didn't even phrase it like a question, as if he'd said it so many times before that he wasn't willing to exhaust his voice more than necessary. Julienne felt a pang of pity.

"Where's your mother, young man?" she asked kindly.

"Dunno."

"What are you doing here alone? Haven't you got a home?"

The boy blinked; he seemed to be taken aback by the lack of insincerity.

"No, m'lady. Traf'ling around. No home."

"Oh." She thought about taking him with her, but as she watched his face, thinking, a strange look passed over it. A look that no normal child should have. She bit her lip, uncertain. "I have some coins." They were in a pouch, sewn into her dress so she wouldn't lose it. She had to dismount to be able to get at it. "Can you hold my horse?"

"Ya." The boy scuffed forward; licked his lips. "Hafn't you some pennies?"

"Yes, they're in my pocket. Just wait a minute, please – "

It didn't even take that long. She hadn't noticed the shadows when she'd ridden into the boy, but now they grew into shapes of men – men with dark, tanned skin and white teeth that glittered along with the gold they wore. Men who looked at her in a way that suddenly made her acute aware of her lack of male strength, of clothes fit to run in, of a fit horse to run on. She would have staggered back, if there had been a place to stagger to.

But they were all around.

"She haf'gotta pocketo' pennies." said the boy helpfully.

Julienne screamed.

* * *

**A/N:** Meh.. this "double space between paragraphs" is driving me crazy. . This is the 4th time I'm uploading this. It's been a while. Sometimes (ok, most of the time) I have long periods of uncreativity. And then I get a brilliant idea, but unfortunately it often involves starting all over. Ever experienced that?  
Thanks to those who reviewed my first chapter/put it to their alerts/favorites. I feel spoiled. People normally don't even bother to read my stories.  
I have a minor question – when you click "reply" to a review, where does the message turn up? Is there an inbox somewhere on this site that I'm not aware of? Anyhow, wish you all a Happy Easter. ) 


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